Midgard
by MentalParrot
Summary: "You know what I see? I see a man struggling with what he wants and what he needs." Set directly after Avengers.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Thor nor the Avengers.

**Author's Note:** Complies with Thor and directly after The Avenger's. It will be as canon as it can get. I really love Darcy and Loki. It's a crack ship that's not actually a crack ship because the writers are just too blind to see how amazing they would be together. Kat Dennings is my spirit animal and more importantly, Tom Hiddleston is my god. That is all.

**Midgard**

If a person could describe a childhood with a word, assuming said person even wanted to condemn a childhood to a single, meaningless word, Darcy's would be lonely.

With purple and pink skies melting into one, but never really touching, she would stare at them until the world decided to stop spinning.

She was never a needy child, capable of being dependent, but that trait just didn't look right on her. Darcy compares it to the new trend of maxi dresses she finds women wearing everywhere. Just because it looks right on some people, doesn't mean it won't make you look shorter and frumpier than you were before.

Maybe that was why her mother never truly knew what shade were her eyes or why she had thought that self-pregnancy existed until the ripe age of 15. Nobody in town had the gall to judge her for that, since there were perks on having more than man that could be your father.

So she lived through the potty training, and the puberty. Darcy even got a prom date and made out in the bleachers. Darcy felt her first heartbreak when Gregory Pace takes her virginity with a kiss and promise (with perhaps an excess amount of alcohol), and felt real love when golden boy Michael Kane shows up the next day with a black eye, Greg's two front teeth, and a suspension slip waving in the wind like the flag she never pledged her allegiance to.

It was fun and hilarious and everything a slightly less than normal girl could wish for.

Lonely however, was always a recurring theme within the daily events of her life.

* * *

She goes under the radar somehow and manages to weasel into a respectable college as a result of many tardy slips that chained her to not only the library, but a lifetime reliance on glasses.

Darcy never would've thought that she would be grateful for being drunk after the whole Greg incident, until the day she becomes friends with Jane Foster, point being that she never would've signed up for an internship that listed the "exciting" town of Puente Antiguo as a perk.

Jane is petite, geeky, and bossy. Frankly, she's reminded of a slightly less bushier and less likable version of Hermione Granger.

However, she's determined, driven, and passionate and fills up all the holes within Darcy's lazy, lackadaisical twenty-one year old self.

Neither Jane nor her know whether it was because of that aspect in their relationship or that being metaphorically stranded in a town, that's in a desert, that's in the most unknown state of the United States, that made them such a pair.

Darcy remembers the exact moment when Thor comes down all god-like and Jane rams him with the van. Yes, Jane, because it was legally her fault. She was about to disobey orders and turn on the radio when a thunderous crash tells her to ignite the engine and button down the hatches before Jane even has the words "Go!" in her trachea.

It's a whirlwind of confusion, pop tarts, and really good breakfasts that gets Darcy feeling _alive_. She badgers Thor for tales of Asgard and he enthusiastically accepts. Of course, Darcy eyes Jane at the corner, giving one of her famous withering stares, but she knows the workaholic astrophysicist is just as fascinated as she is. Maybe even more enamored than her if you count her growing fondness for the Norse god drinking his fifth cup of expresso.

When his band of merry men, plus a woman that she already feels dislike for, come with news from Asgard, Darcy mentally says goodbye to halcyon days. To think, letting go of her iPod was bad enough.

The destruction is terrible and far worse than she actually thought. Businesses were wrecked, and people traumatized. The local hospital reception knows her by name, as well as the patients there. Darcy feels as if it's therapeutic on how she's helping people to pick up the pieces. She surmises that it helps her keep her mind off on her own pieces.

Thor doesn't return, and she feels betrayed for some reason. It wasn't her that the promise was directed to, but why did she feel like someone tried to dig out her heart with a spoon.

She's absolutely, positively, certain she feels nothing more but blatant affection and endearment towards the god-alien-other worldly being, so why did she feel that sharp tightening in her chest when Jane sadly says to the sky that he wasn't coming back.

Of course, Jane being Jane, is all that more propelled and galvanized by this and Darcy has no time to sit and reflect because she's up and weaving eight daily coffee runs per day and carrying dirt samples by night. She is thankful for Jane because that lethargic feeling is staved off longer and Darcy feels purpose surging through her toes to the roots of her hair.

* * *

Some months later, just when her internship is about to expire and the dull loom of college is overhead, there is a huge fiasco involving some crazed, costumed "terrorist". That's what they say on the news and everyone's too crazed and too belligerent to think anything else.

Of course, Jane conveniently acquires an opportunity of some extraordinary rarity that sends her and Darcy off to some distant place filled with hidden cameras and camouflaged beings hidden within the rose bush outside of the compound. A person would think that an intern wouldn't have to go, but it's SHIELD and their "Men in Black" motto of, 'Thoust shalst neverest leakest intelligence..est".

Darcy tries relaying that to the security guard outside her bedroom at night. She squirms under his glare and finds that her blanket is much more better company.

After about two weeks of mind-numbing numbers and a busy Jane, Darcy is slapped on the shoulder by the latter and spills her sparkling water all over her only white-collared office shirt. She faintly hears Jane bubble with delight on how Thor is back and how she had, without a doubt spotted Mjolnir flying in the background of CNN's very limited footage of the destruction in New York.

Like a much too dramatic movie, this is the exact moment where Thor decides to pop in. Bathed in sweat, and the fragrance that only ruined New York skyscrapers give off, he sweeps Jane off her feet and swings her around more than a few times.

Trying not to kill their moment of reunion, Darcy choppily tries to dodge Jane's heavy duty rain boot of death and... fails. She's promptly mowed down to the shiny linoleum floor of the cafeteria and ends up in a cloddish, unwomanly heap of limbs.

When at last her toes seem to feel like they've ceased to touch her ear, Darcy flips and puffs her hair out of the way, just to be able to see the sharp, emaciated profile of the man-god-immortal, that had just blown up her favorite donut shop in New York City, sitting erect and cross-legged on the floor. He had his entire focus upon the happy couple, silently watching as the metal muzzle clamping his mouth reflected the lights. To call his gaze a glare, would be a lie.

It was piercing, calculating.

It made Darcy sick to her core.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Please, please, _PLEASE_ review. I really value constructive criticism and this is my first time writing anything Marvel! Tell me I'm doing it right or wrong. Do not favorite without a review if you want to see more. They give me motivation, which I lack.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Thor or the Avengers. Sadly.

**Author's Note:** Transitive chapter. I'm taking things slow, because the Loki and Darcy fandom does not know the meaning of slow. Since this is going to be my first multi-chapter story, I will take time on figuring out all the kinks. This _will not_ be a whirlwind romance. I hope this doesn't deter your attention.

**Midgard**

"I.. ah.. Jane!" Darcy manages to squeak out, never taking her eyes off the super villain a foot away from her.

Still breathless from being spun around, Jane turns around and lets out a gasp of horror as her big doe eyes change to being a deer in headlights about to be run over.

"Oh my god!" Jane stumbles back and her eyes connects with Darcy as if to confirm that it wasn't an hallucination, "Oh my _god!_ "

"Yeah, we got that! Oh my god!" Darcy panics even further as she sees in her peripheral vision that Mr. Public Enemy Number One had abruptly shifted his stare from his brother to the inept intern that was about to begin hyperventilating. Darcy takes this as a sign to fall back and scuttle away doing the hermit crab.

"Thor!" Jane hisses, rather loudly too, "What is he doing here!"

"Do not be alarmed Jane." Thor thunders reassuringly, giving a nod of acknowledgment to Darcy, "Lady Darcy."

Still stunned, Darcy can only force out a unintelligible, "Uh huh."

"My brother is harmless." Although Thor says this confidently, there is a note of fatigue within it. Noting the skeptical air around him, he clears his throat and adds in, "Currently."

Loki, albeit in a state equal to or even more than of Thor, still had the energy to roll his eyes in exasperation.

Hearing the tell-tale sound of security running down the halls, Thor helps (more like lifts) Darcy to her feet, as well as Loki.

"I must take him to Asgard for his trial and punishment by the All Father, but after learning of your whereabouts, I could not resist arriving here to show you that I had indeed kept my promise. Fret not, for I shall return once again for you." Thor moves to kiss Jane's hand, only to have her encompass him in a crushing hug and kiss him in a way their American red-neck brethren would be proud of. "Goodbye dearest Jane. Lady-"

"Darcy." Darcy feels more at ease now due to this and smiles hesitantly, despite how she felt like she had just witnessed enough PDA to last her a lifetime.

"Darcy." Thor softens, "For your service and kindred spirit to Miss Foster and the hand you extended towards me when I had first arrived here, despite my petulance and brashness, consider me to be your trusted friend."

Thor reluctantly lets go of Jane's hand and walks toward Loki, who was standing motionlessly with an unreadable emotion upon his face. Thor places his hand upon Loki's scratched up shoulder plate, and murmurs faintly, "Let us go, brother."

With a flash, they were gone, leaving nothing but an empty echo in their wake.

Jane collapses from the sheer emotion and magnitude of the events that had taken place in a matter of minutes. Luckily for Jane, Darcy was more agile than usual in that moment and successfully supports her up into a chair before she hits the ground.

"He's gone," Jane says to no one in particular, "Again.."

Darcy feels uncomfortable, and it wasn't just because of the ten SHIELD agents bustling around the lounge with gadgets that no normal person should see. Darcy was never the one for comforting, but she supposes that right now the quality of comfort didn't really matter for the hollowed out woman in front of her.

They are shipped off in an armored truck, with blacked out windows and big burly men without faces by their sides.

Darcy has a mini-attack as each jolt of the truck springs her up and forward.

Jane silently cries into her shoulder; she was never the one for theatrics and Darcy sympathizes with her, since nobody wants an audience to witness their most vulnerable point.

Where were they going? What time is it? Will they go into witness protection? Oh my god, they're going to off her in the woods because no one needs the intern. Wait, yes they do. Everyone needs interns. Does SHIELD have interns or are all their interns SWAT members and professional baristas that know how to use a semi-automatic?

Darcy tries to calm her nerve-wracked mind and relates back to the wisdom of the mental health seminar she attended just for the free food, because spending your last paycheck on ridiculously expensive books means to eat microwavable Betty Crocker cakes for three whole weeks.

"It'll be alright. He'll come back," Darcy hears herself saying, "He came back the first time. He'll come back the second."

However a disturbing thought forms in her mind when she says this.

If Thor's coming back, doesn't that mean Loki will as well?

Darcy pretends that her shaking hands were due to too much caffeine. She hasn't eaten in five hours.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please review. I promise I will not bite or harass you in any which way that I am mentally capable of. I absolutely appreciate constructive criticism and will respond to each review. However just as a notice, the pace will be up to my choosing. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Thor or The Avengers, Darcy and Loki would've absolutely canon and then Kat and Tom would've married because they reignited their love upon the movie set. Of course, Darcy would be in the comics too, making her canon forever and ever. So no, I don't own neither one, and I probably never will. I also quoted from Wislawa Szymborska's brilliant poem, "In Praise of Feeling Bad". If you catch it, I will applaud you.

**Author's Note: **Things are heating up, no? I have some wonderful ideas in mind for the plot right now. I just need to figure out some ways to blend and express it.

**Midgard**

Asgard is still radiant when they arrive. The people still young, and the gold still shining. They land within the midst of the courtyard right in front of the palace. Loki knew it was no mistake upon Thor's part that they had ended up here instead of directly within the confines of the throne room. Odin was a conniving old bastard as ever. At first the citizens had quieted down in awe after the sudden shock of light, but when they had realized who it was and who was dragged in tow, whispers clouded the air.

Loki, seemingly stoic on the outside, mentally braced himself for the attacks, but instead he was greeted with rumors, suspicion, and support?

"I heard he had killed the Midgardians for their lack of devotion."

"Wanted to cleanse them of their corruption."

"It's obvious that his madness was for love. Had a mortal lover, I'm telling you. It is in the veins of their forefathers."

"It was just a bit of mischief. Those mortals would kill themselves in the end anyways."

"Why we bother to interact with those chaotic creatures I haven't a clue!"

"Are these our choices of kings? One to seek war and the other to seek destruction!"

They know nothing. Loki laughed to himself. Damage control, Father? You really couldn't even have the public know that you had adopted the bastard son of Laufey.

Loki snaps out of his stupor and realizes that two armed guards had taken hold upon both of his arms. He struggles in their grip, refusing to relinquish anymore of his dignity, and especially not to mindless drones.

"Release him!" Thor booms, and they slacken their grip enough to allow Loki to shrug their hands off him.

The depowered god shoots them a disdainful look and though only his eyes can be seen, there was always a certain quality about Loki that bristled any Asgardian. The guards could not put a reason on their animosity towards their prince, but to deny something so innate would be to go against nature itself. So they vented in the only way they could without getting their heads displayed on pikes. They stuck their feet out, and down went six-feet and two inches of arrogant jackass.

Thor growls at the two guards and the two quickly exchange looks with each other and shuffle back in the palace.

The crowd laughs, and Loki tries to suppress the feeling of rage and indignity within the depths of his soul. Once again, Thor glares at the crowd, and a hush falls over the mob. This just further fuels Loki's spite for Thor and hatred for all these ignorant sheep being led by a leader they hardly know other than the strength in his sword and the clang of his shield.

"Silence!" Odin's voice resonates throughout the chamber. All becomes still. "My son," Odin begins, "your _prince_, has returned." Thor notices how Odin's eye flickers around to see if any dare to dispute that.

"Loki, for your crimes against Jotunheim, the destruction of its land, and attempted genocide upon its people," Odin pauses," you have already completed your punishment."

The room breaks out in murmurs and Loki is surprised enough to raise his gaze up to Odin, trying to search out any sign of what might be going through his mind.

"My king I must insist that.." Sif begins to walk towards Odin, but is quieted immediately by his intense gaze. Loki scoffs inwardly, and he would've scoffed outwardly if they had removed the muzzle and handcuffs. It was just like Sif to want the ruin and death of him. After two millenniums, she was just as irritating as she was when she was blonde and less-monstrous.

"Falling through the abyss, and surviving it is no easy matter. Time flows differently in a sever between worlds." If one were not paying attention closely, like Loki, they would miss the near imperceptible softening of his grip upon his scepter and ease of his shoulders.

"To be in a continual struggle against the force of the abyss. To have to use all of your strength and cunning to fend off being disintegrated into the very matter you are comprised of. I could not have issued a more suitable punishment. I only regret that you were driven to fulfill a mad, convoluted scheme instead of reflecting upon your actions."

Thor starts to move towards Loki to help him to his feet.

"The trial is not yet over!" Odin booms, "Your actions against Midgard and the race of humanity cannot be overlooked. You carry within yourself the seeds of vengeance, rage, and destruction. In your quest to fulfill your selfish ambition, you have cast off compassion!"

Loki's eyes blaze with unguarded emotion, and Thor flashes back to their fight on the bridge; his last desperate plea for approval as he let go and disappeared into the abyss.

Odin's voice becomes neutral and controlled once again.

"You believe that you are right, but among the signs of bestiality a clear conscience is number one."

"For your arrogance and lack of empathy, magic will cease to be your shield." Odin thumps his scepter on the ground and Loki lurches forward as the essence of magic is stripped from the recesses of his body and soul. He gasps heavily through the metal around his mouth as his bound arms hit the ground in an effort to keep himself upright.

"For your disregard for life, immortality will no longer be your companion." The battered armor and cape retreat back into thin air. Soon nothing is left but the bruises and cuts that decorate his body. He could no longer hide his trembling to all in the court room.

Humiliation, Odin was getting innovative with the years.

"No longer shall you evade the truth."

"Father!" Thor bellows, his feet ready to run to his brother's side, not bothering to disguise how upset he was.

"No lies to mask reality!" His voice increases in volume.

"Odin!" Frigga pleads with a mother's pain laced within her voice.

Loki feels his chest tightening, slowly evolving to a searing, scorching sensation within the back of his throat. It is volatile, fervid and surges outward, vaporizing the metal muzzle he despised so much. The force is so strong, his head is impelled up until Loki no longer feels the cold floor beneath him.

Loki sees black eating away at his vision and he muses that Odin may have accidentally taken more than what he intended. How typical.

"I take away your speech!"

A bright light fills the room, as Loki begins to slip towards the floor.

Thor and Frigga tear through the guards, but each step seems heavier than the next.

"Brother!"

"Loki!"

He is gone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please, please, _please_ review and you will likely receive a chapter or more everyday. I do _not_ do previews because I don't know myself what the next chapter is going to be like.I currently have no beta, so forgive me for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

Sadly, I am not as confident as I am writing Loki's perspective or any other Asgardian because of their formal speech. Be assured I am doing my best, though. Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Thor, nor The Avengers.

**Author's Note:** I had previously updated Chapter Four, but after one of my readers pointed out, seemed very disjointed, and I was inclined to agree. I hope this is a smoother chapter. Be will be a very high rating of T.

**Midgard**

The candles flicker back and forth casting long, lean shadows that dance around the room. It makes for a comfortable atmosphere, but the atmosphere is far from that at the current point. A tensed silence pervades the room, shrouding its inhabitants under its heavy hand.

Thor stands up suddenly, reaching for his hammer, "I will search for Loki." He states with resignation.

"No." Odin declares, not raising from his seat, "I forbid it."

"This is no punishment father!" Thor's anger is inflected within his voice, "It is a death sentence!"

Frigga intervenes with gentle firmness, but with the intention to keep the peace, since she herself sides with Thor. "Thor.. You must trust your father in that-"

"Loki will die!" He whips back to his mother, hissing it with such harsh force that she is shocked into stupor and falters back a step.

Fury courses through Odin. Any sense of restraint dissipates between the two.

"To take away his magic is another, but to take away a gift of life! If he survives, the resentment will only further his descent-!" Thor unknowingly takes a step towards Odin, half pleading and half demanding at the same moment.

"He is also my son! Would you have him-"

"Into the darkness!" Thor gestures forcefully outward, "He is injured, powerless, and -"

"-become the monster he believes himself-"

"-Mute! Robbing him of his only defense! You know that to die in any way other than battle would be to chain one's soul to the realm of Hel! You-" Each man's voice increases in intervals.

"-to be! Vulnerability will remind him of his values. His way of thought is no greater than a beast!"

"-are condemning him to a fate _worse than_ _a beast_!"

With a flourish of his cape, Thor stalks out of the room with the clank of his boots behind him. Odin lets a slow exhale escape as he hears muffled crashes and Thor's bellow vibrate the floor beneath him.

"Frigga.." Odin looks towards his wife beside him. The jewels nor the rich cloth that is draped around her can mask the fatigue she feels. Weariness marks the lines of her body, and his devoted wife slowly turns her gaze towards him.

"My faith in you will never waver." She says this carefully and evenly. Pausing to gauge for his reaction, and hearing none, she continues, "However, do not think me a soldier capable of witnessing my son endure this deranged brutality, as his own father carves out the scars that were born from his own blade." Her words each have a well-practiced containment about them, but only a fool would not hear the cold wind lurking within the undertones.

Odin stares blankly into the distance, his mouth forms a grim line and his eye is darkened like steel. It is quiet now, with only the occasional footstep outside the chamber.

Frigga searches for any notion of response upon her husband's face, and with heavy disappointment, she looks away.

They sit there motionlessly, allowing for the words unsaid to dominate and envelop.

* * *

A multitude of voices conjoin together in a sea of murky waters. Wavelike motions drift him up and down, forwards and backwards, as the darkness fluxes within itself, never fully touching. It was almost strange to say that he felt a warmth completely surround him, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Speckles of light burst on the insides of his eyelids, reminding him of the sparks that fizzled in midair as the Bifrost broke off from the bridge.

He was so close. So close to ruling Asgard after all these years.

It hits him when he realizes how old he sounded right now. Thousands of years _have_ passed after all.

He chuckles sardonically to himself that the most important revelations of his life had taken place within the time span of less than a month. Funny how fitting in was always such a problem for a shape shifter.

It was a curse and blessing to eat Idunn's apples. The apples provided you with vitality and lifespan ranging upon the thousands. Unfortunately, that came with a powerful memory. Too powerful of a memory.

When he was a boy of a few hundred years, Loki remembers the spars with his brother, with him either pushing him down or pulling him up. He never took delight in the tussle, since contrary to popular opinion, his physical strength was not half bad, decent almost, since his prowess for technique and precision had no rival but to compare it to Thor's, which people did frequently, would be to compare an anteater and an ant.

So from there he earned a unspoken reputation of being a frail, weak, child.

They had assumed it so often, so naturally, that Loki thought it true himself, and retreated deeper within the arts of sorcery and magic, proving them all correct.

Everyone around him seemed to dislike the very air he breathed. In fact, there were times where it seemed more like distrust and fear. There was something hidden with the corner of their eyes or rise of their smiles that looked disconcerting to him.

Sometimes, he was sure they did not know why themselves.

If it was not for Thor, he would not have known any names other than of his immediate family. He was always behind, always the one needing to exert the most to be beside them. Always giving, never receiving. It wasn't as if he didn't take amusement in human contact, he simply found it irritating when people did it solely from obligation or ulterior purposes. It was as if an invisible line of separation had forged its way between him and the rest of the world.

Lie to him, lie to them. And thus his talent was born.

So in every sense, it was their fault.

* * *

Frigga's words vaguely flit across his mind as the venomous thoughts oozed out from the crevices of his psyche.

* * *

_He was silently brooding the day after Thor returned from a recent conquest. Which creature's blood covered his dagger and colored Thor's hair, he paid no mind, but the internal burn Loki felt when he caught Odin's slight upward twitch of his mouth as he reprimanded Thor for his brashness, could not be cast off. _

_Loki did not stay for the celebration, choosing the solace of his chamber over the boisterous drunks he had already needed to endure on a daily basis._

_He ran his fingers through his hair, and leaned gratuitously upon the foot of the bed in an effort to mollify the nagging thoughts that lay in the back corners of his sanity. _

_He felt a hush of air grace upon his cheek and knew that his mother had made her presence besides him. _

_"There is wine and ambrosia spilling to the floors to waste, when I am aware that you may devise a better use for them." She said softly, with a teasing tone._

_He exhaled shakily, "My company is not wanted by most right now." Slowly he opened his eyes and threw a sidelong glance towards his mother. "I deem it best if you leave."_

_"Each mother has eyes that privy her to things that.." Frigga trailed off sadly, "..That even the wisest of beings cannot understand."_

_Loki furrowed his brow. "I am a fool."_

_Frigga grasped his hand._

_"For following my brother to that accursed realm. For easing his path." His tone grew spiteful. "If I hadn't, he may have-"_

_"Perhaps gone directly into the healing chamber upon his return?" Loki looked at his mother in surprise, hastily turning away when he realized what he did._

_"But at least, he would've learned that battle does not translate into victory." His voice still biting and mocking, but nevertheless, softer._

_Frigga contemplated this thoughtfully for moment before speaking. _

_"A wise king sacrifices to give. A tyrant gives to sacrifice."_

_Loki scoffed bitterly._

_Her hands brushed his disheveled hair from shrouding his eyes and gently guided his face toward her. _

_"These words may not be spoken often, but it does not make it any less the truth." She kisses his forehead and whispers something in Nordic, sounding almost like a prayer, but his mind is too distracted and the words too faint for him to understand. _

_The next day when he entered the sparring room, he met Volstagg and Hogun for the first time._

_"Frigga's boy, was it?" Volstagg grinned, purposely holding the word Frigga a half-second longer, and exchanged glances with the silent Hogun. Tried to at least, if Hogun returned them. _

_Loki tipped his head in reply, and thinly smiled back, showing more teeth than usual. _

_From that day forward, he sealed off his chamber. Not a single soul was able to take a step within it, not because they couldn't, but because they did not dare to. _

_Not even his mother._

* * *

The memory fades and the comforting warmth begins to slip away from him. Loki feels the cool air nipping and prickling at his skin. The lights that danced underneath his eyelids die away, like a star within its last period of life. Loki tries to lift away the darkness when its presence ceases to be reassuring.

The god is perplexed when he finds his arms will not move as he would like them to. Confusion turns into mild alarm when his legs refuse to raise themselves up more than a few centimeters. After a few more seconds of struggle with his limbs, he concedes the fight to them.

Loki suddenly remembers that he has a face.

Gingerly, he begins to test his functions. He slowly starts to scrunch his nose and before he could even finish, spikes of pain flood the entire area.

Yes, he _definitely_ had a face.

Taking another minute to mentally prepare himself, he decides to try his eyes... and discovers another brilliant revelation.

His eyeballs were bruised. _Bruised._

Today, was not a good day. Were his eyelids always this heavy?

Forced to use more effort, he is finally able to crack one of his eyes open to see...

Gum.

Black, flattened, old- with what he thinks half of a cockroach was encrusted in-_gum_.

Disoriented and unable to move much without unleashing a wave of pain, his eyes follow the metal outline of what he thinks to be a dumpster, up towards the sky, only to be greeted by an onslaught of water that blur his vision even further.

Rain. Gallons upon gallons, of cold, wet rain.

His consciousness, although slow at the start, was beginning to quickly regain its footing, similar to a stone rolling down a hill. Loki in all his years, had never felt anything worse than this-never felt anything _more_ than this. From his toes all the way to his fingers, he could only make out what felt to be intense soreness. Loki's head was throbbing profusely with dull pain, taking turns in each direction. The floor was rigid and rugged, digging into his flesh and open wounds with whatever trash had the misfortune of being blown that way.

A blast of frigid wind slaps him upon his bare back and instinctively he curls up further into the fetal position. Now fully conscious, but still a bit unbalanced, he notes with morbid fascination on the way his exposed body trembled with greater intensity each time it happened.

Summoning all of his willpower, he cranes his neck up towards the sky again, this time taking care to blink the rain from his eyes. His begrimed hair partially shrouds his vision, but it is enough for him to catch the dark overshadows of the buildings he was lying in between, along with the soggy wet flyer plastered to the wall that stated out-in the most obnoxious shade of yellow known to man-

**'WELCOME TO NEW YORK FUCKING CITY...'**

And as an afterthought,

**_'FUCKASS.'_**

* * *

**Author's Note: **To clear things up from the previous chapter: Yes, Loki is mute. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. Zero. With a capital M. As always, I appreciate and will reply to all reviews. They feed my soul. There have been so many story alerts, that I feel I must comment on them. I'm wondering if it's a feeling of indecision of what to make of my story-because I am aware I have not solidified the plot yet- or if it's a sign of interest. Hm. Oh well.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Thor nor The Avengers.

**Author's Note: **I know. I know. Long update time. To make up for it, it's a longer chapter than usual.

**Midgard**

Joe wasn't having a good day. He had stubbed his toe on his way out the door in the morning, his kid threw up cereal, and the fucking dipshit turban wearing Indian didn't give back his change. To make it all better, it was fucking raining cats and dogs for a whole fucking week and being in the NYPD meant you had to deal with some of the shittiest people in the gutter hole of America, so you didn't want those people wet, no sir.

Joe didn't even ask for this. He was just a kid from Brooklyn but his lady had nagged him on how a transfer to the Manhattan precinct was _such _an honor, especially after the whole terrorist bombing again and moving would be a nice change of pace for when they had little Max, which turned out to be little Maxine. I fuck you not.

So when Joe goes on his weekly patrols in the most rat-infested part of town, he shouldn't be surprised to find a naked body curled up near a dumpster, in an alley, bleeding, and moving.

The Miami Zombie's motherfucking white brother.*

* * *

Loki winced to see a blinding radiance flash across his entire vision, not used to having his eyes needing to adjust to anything weaker than the light his scepter ebbed off. Slowly, the white receded and the god could make out what appeared to be a flashlight probing into his eyes.

"You're in the hospital right now," A clear voice said to him, deliberately enunciating each vowel and consonant, "Do you understand me?"

The doctor assumes the slight twitch of his head was a nod and continues, "You're going to be fine. You've been unconscious for three days from fatigue. We've treated you for most of your injuries. All you need now is rest." The doctor waits a few moments to scribble down a chart in the front of his bed, and inclines his head towards the door. "He's awake. You can come in."

Loki blearily sees two men in uniforms that he remembers from the attack. They entered the room as the one in the white coat left and he saw them exchange words back and forth for a few moments, with their eyes occasionally flicking back at him warily.

After they seated themselves comfortably in the chairs besides his bed, the one of shorter, yet more structured stature, began, "Hi, my name's Joe and this here's my partner, Doug. How're you feeling?" Loki deadpanned. Imbeciles, he's in the mortal equivalent of a healing chamber, landed naked, wounded, and half-dead. Do you think he's feeling _peachy_? Crass thoughts replayed back and forth in Loki's mind, but all that showed outward was a tired, albeit slightly prickly demeanor.

Not waiting a beat, Joe explains, "You were in pretty bad shape when I found you out there-"

"All naked and.. bleeding.." His partner interjects, adding a mild look of revolt on 'bleeding', "My buddy nearly shat his pants!" He begins to chuckle, until Joe shoots him a glare stopping him in his tracks.

Visibly flustered, Joe clears his throat, "Please excuse my partner. He's new. But he wasn't lying. What happened?"

Loki opens his mouth to feed him a smooth lie, only to find something blocking the words. The cops trade glances of confusion with one another, as Loki tries to speak again. Disgruntled, he drags his body up using his arms and sits up straighter. Quickly throwing a thin smile towards the pair, he opens his mouth again, only to gasp out quiet puffs of air.

The irritation that previously existed in the god died out and even the dynamic duo sat up in their chairs, fully alert, as they witnessed the look of trepidation upon his face.

Loki continually tried again and again to force out a word or a sound. _Any_ sound. But no matter how or what he did, despite all the different angles and tones he tried throwing his voice into, nothing would get past this invisible barrier.

Any residual focus he had on anything else vanished, as desperation and frustration took a hold of Loki's being. Frantically, clawing at his throat he remembers, with an upstart, the last moments he was conscious on Asgard.

_"I take away your speech!" _

With a growing understanding, quiet fury overcomes all notion of reason and civility for Loki. He lashes out with an unforeseen wave of force that causes everyone to be taken back. His arms thrash everywhere in a mad, unpredictable rampancy. An alarm sounds as nurses and doctors rush in to restrain him, with many being thrown back into the cabinets and walls.

Joe is thrown backwards into a cart and he stumbles up again to see a tempest of glass, bottles and wires just thrown about in a chaotic frenzy. "God! Jesus! What the hell is this guy!"

"We need more people in here!"

"Someone get his legs! Don't let his arms go free!"

"Sir! Calm down! Sir!"

"Where's the syringe! Where the fuck is it!"

A needle is managed to be jabbed haphazardly into his arm by a nurse as Loki writhes in his bed-his neck bulging with veins-with a dozen hands clamped down on each section of his body.

His face contorts into an amalgamation of rage, betrayal, and anguish as he screams to nothing, but silence.

* * *

Loki catches parts of hushed whispers and sees moving streaks of colors in his vision. He thinks he's been waking up to strange places too often.

"I don't get it. His vocal cords are in perfect condition. There are no signs of head trauma that could be related to this."

"Psychological illness could be the cause. It could be a sign of extreme autism or a degenerative disease."

"Maybe, but we've done scans and x-rays that show no abnormality, except that this guy is in the top ten percent of the human condition. There's little to no sign of scarring from the cuts when we found him. No visible skin imperfections. Nothing."

"What.. are you suggesting?"

"...Nothing. I just have a bad feeling about this guy. He's not normal, and yet he's probably the most physically normal person I've seen."

There is a brief mull of silence until the door slams shut.

* * *

Darcy was having a good day. Well, define good. Sure it's been nearly a week in 'protection', but she's in NYC, at the heart of Stark Industries, bringing coffee to some people you wouldn't even think to exist in the real world.

..Yeah, coffee. Don't degrade her. She _is_ still an intern.

Take Tony Stark for example. Ruler of the technological world, billionaire, and probably her hacking idol. Darcy hesitates to use his own self imposed title of "Billionaire, Philanthropist, Playboy". It sounds too shtick-like and loses its originality after you hear it once and hear it another three thousand times throughout the media. Some things aren't meant to be auto-tuned.

He likes his coffee french-pressed, with beans imported all the way from a tiny island port just off the coast of Argentina, at exactly 77.505 degrees Celsius. Darcy has to go through 25 different steps just to make sure it's at that exact temperature, because he just so happened to invent a thermometer that does exactly just that.

And because he wouldn't let Darcy use it, she makes the original 24 steps into 25 steps, by adding a bit of à la Darcy, _liquid_ form.

Sure, it takes a bit of calculating, but it's always satisfying to see that smug look on his face as he drinks it.

Then there's Captain America, aka Steve Rogers. The all-mighty hero of the WWII era and Darcy can't help but snort at the name, _Steve_.

"Oh my god! Run guys! It's _Steve._"

Maybe it's because she associates the name with the neurotic monkey from the movie, _Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs__._ Any monkey who mutilates evil gummy-bears from crashing a plane is ok with her. She gurgles awkwardly when she tries to stifle her laughter when she asks Steve if he knew what gummy bears were. He smiles at her and proudly states that he tried one of the first batches of "Gummibär" that Hans Riegel Sr. had prepared while he was stationed in Germany and he was delighted that it lasted throughout the years. She finds it homely how he pronounces it the German way.

Speaking of Europeans and classic symbols of frenemies to the US, Darcy would have never taken the red-haired bombshell to be Russian with her perfect American accent. To state it bluntly, Natasha intimidated her. The Russian spy, assassin, or secret agent had an air of cool collection about her that seemed almost regal.

Darcy would place ten dollars on if Natasha was a Leo.

For some strange reason, Natasha seemed not to mind her company, even smiling and showing her wry sense of humor whenever Darcy encounters her during one of her few leisure times. Darcy concludes that she had a drowning puppy effect that posed no threat to Natasha's killer instincts as an assassin.

Natasha had a strange relationship with Clint Barton, a stocky, very stacked fellow who Darcy knows must be an assassin/spy as well by the fluidity and steadiness with which he moves with.

Clint didn't intimidate her as much as he should've, since she sensed some heavy integrity hidden underneath him, or at least a past painful enough to steer him away from cracking her neck the moment she annoys him.

He was very efficient. There was always a straight-forwardness in everything gesture or nuance that he did, similar to, but different than Natasha's near-Zen state.

Clint was cute, and there had been a few one-liners of light flirtation between them, but nothing more than that. She didn't really dig him that way, and getting in the way of whatever Natasha and him had together would be too dangerous... and rude. Mostly rude.

Darcy observed the two whenever she could. It was fascinating to try and decipher what kind of relationship the two had. It was certainly deep, but by what? Too profound to label it as mere comradeship, and too close to see it as friends, Darcy's absolutely sure that they've never even kissed though. She feels the respect between the two has no room for any of that romantic bullshit.

A slight bubble of envy rises to the top when she thinks about this, but it always pops when Darcy gets back into reality.

Jane and Thor are happily reunited and as much as she adores both of them, Darcy finds it easier to adore them separately. It's not anything personal. It's just the guilt that Jane radiates when she's ogling Thor all school-girl like and Thor's just _ogling_ back-and Jane _knows_ Darcy's just munching on her sandwich in the corner ogling at them both-is just too much.

Technically, Darcy's taking one for the team by hanging out with Selvig when she has nothing else to do on Friday nights. She hangs out with Selvig, because Nick Fury doesn't look like a nice drunk to be around, and because Selvig-_maybe kinda sorta_-reminds her of the dad she never had, which is always bittersweet.

And bittersweet goes with beer. It makes sense if a person knows by now that Darcy is the Jane Austen of bittersweet.

* * *

Loki doesn't bother trying to free himself of his bindings, knowing that he's a little more than helpless outside in the putrid environment of the city he once tried to conquer.

"Do you remember anything?" The professional looking doctor from before is now replaced with a scraggly blonde one and enters his room again, with two male nurses by his side, each armed with a ready syringe.

His long horse-like face is only magnified by the glasses and every once in a while he sniffles and rubs his nose with the back of his hand.

Inept and sick. The mortals are lacking far more in discipline than he thought.

The doctor apparently noticed his gaze and laughed sheepishly; his plugged nose and light Irish accent created a strange hickory sound, "Sorry, the constant humidity is making my allergies act up. I swear I'm not sick."

Loki made a sarcastic huff and his lips press together forming a thin impatient line.

He needed to find a way to contact the Other. But _how?_

Damned Odin nearly took away every means of him to even reach shelter. Loki hated the thought that it was his own helplessness that saved him from his untimely death in this form.

It wasn't the first time he'd been mortal and unlike Thor and the others, there wasn't an interval of a thousand years in between.

The games, the wine, the _chaos._

Just remembering made a dark, lurking froth of excitement emerge from the depths, more or less akin to a childlike giddiness he hadn't experienced in eons.

He relished that aspect of the humans. They were all mindless sheep, but there was a relinquishing element that made it almost bearable to the point where he nearly...

"There's a white board in case you need to-" An all too familiar hickory voice snaps Loki out of his train of thoughts.

The nurse besides him grunts, "He refuses to use the whiteboard."

Dr. Horse scrunches his nose quixotically, as if deep in thought, "Have you accepted our offer for-"

"He's refused that too," the other nurse says curtly, hands folded in front of him, "We've barely been able to get him to eat."

The Horse Doctor spins to the front of his bed and plucks his chart out from its holder. Making a loud, senseless pop with his lips, his eyes quickly scan the chart, lighting up with curiosity, and murmurs, "Aren't you just an oddity? Found naked and bruised in an alleyway... with amnesia!.."

Loki didn't actually have amnesia, but he knew that if he even hinted that it was he, who had tried to subjugate all of their pathetic lives, things would not end well when he was still in such a vulnerable mortal body.

A rickety clang ricocheted outside, jolting the already frazzled-looking doctor and discordant enough to alert the guard-dogs, armed with needles instead of-more preferable- teeth, to hurry out of the room in order to see what had occurred.

Horse Doctor fumbles with his chart in an effort to place it back, before striding to the window in another show of his infantile curiosity.

Loki, apathetic from the torpidity, didn't bother to show the slightest interest in what other incompetent twit entertained the crowd of simpletons outside.

A few seconds passed.

Then a minute.

The former god grew impatient and clicked his tongue with irritation.

Loki turned his head from the right side of the pillow to the left in direction of the one-sided glass pane with Horse Fly by the window hands slightly holding the curtains at bay, observing what was going on. Seemingly satisfied, he returned back to finish the chart, leaving the curtains to swing back and forth.

What half-ounce, daft, desiccating, little _piss_ could have possibly drawn enough attention to last half a cen-

A mass flurry of hair whipped up from out of nowhere and disappeared as the curtain shrouded it.

Recognition flashed before his eyes. It wasn't strong or heavy by any means, being more faint and barely even noticeable, than anything else.

But in this forsaken, dingy, unfamiliar world he felt something familiar. An object that wasn't completely alien to him.

He didn't know what-who- it was. But he'd find out.

* * *

All she asked for, was to go home. She almost made it home too.

_Darcy twirled the umbrella back and forth in her hands, never letting it go beyond 180 degrees, feeling a mite bit peppi__er solely from the bright sunny yellow of her rather expensive umbrella __with a__ simple vintage looking wooden__ duck__ toy__ head for a handle. The morbid humor of metaphorically strangling a duck's neck always managed to cheer her skies up a centimeter and the annoying shade of yellow seemed to piss everyone off on a rainy day, so that was a plus too._

_Humming a nonsensical tune to herself, she started to dig through her __bag and fish out her car keys, purposely going out of her way to step in a shallow, semi-clear looking puddle._

_"Oh no," Darcy heard Jane's voice behind her, along with the sound of papers shuffling, "Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no." _

_Darcy heaved a sigh and bit her tongue._

_S__eeing that the older woman already squatting on the wet asphalt with he__r umbrella in between her teeth, she plops down as well. Darcy gives half-hearted. "Where, when and how."_

_The scientist __ gives a painful looking smile, her eyes sagging with gratitude and relief with the handle still__ in her mouth._

Her rain boots were making squelching noises with each step she took within the sterilized halls of the hospital. She felt guilty for dirtying the squeaky sheen of the hospital, but tries to shake it off by reasoning that they probably had much more unsanitary things on their floor.

How water got in her shoes, she may never know.

That was a lie. Darcy actually did know, since she had these boots for about six years, through which she battled rain, sleet, hail, and snow. And _really_ bad dates.

But the lady at the department store-that took way too many perfume samples-said these had a lifetime guarantee, so unless she was going to die in the next five seconds, Darcy was going to sue.

Darcy swears she heard an all-powerful voice boom, 'Challenge accepted,' before hitting the cart.

She looked up in time to watch the cart hit another cart, to hit a nurse, that pushed a gurney- that strapped a very conscious and very awake patient-that wheeled itself straight into an elevator as it was opening to reveal an elderly, paralyzed man bouncing a cute little girl with pig tails...

Pig tails, _seriously_?

...on his lap with a Happy Birthday balloon tied to his chair.

"GRANDPAAA! ..."

Darcy cried.

* * *

Horse Face left the room, something about the child post-traumatic stress unit needing to be called to Elevator Three.

Wriggling his wrists out of the Velcro bindings, he manages to free himself. Before he could make it to the door, however, a sudden thud on the window halted him in his steps.

* * *

"I'm an _idiot!_" Darcy banged her head on the glass window repetitively.

The face the old man made as the gurney chugged down the line flashed into her mind again, the thin white tendrils on his hair standing straight up in shock.

Darcy groaned in frustration and felt like crying again. There was a wet sign right there. How could she have missed that?

It was bad enough that the little girl was now undergoing therapy, but the hospital staff were being nice about it, saying how it was just an accident, and that no one was hurt. At least not too severely.

And this is the hospital that Stark Industries founded.

It literally had jackass in its _name_.

The memories re-flooded and humiliation-shame mixture spilled back in, creating a flush of heat throughout her whole body.

She thumped her head again, this time with her palms splayed across the glass.

* * *

It was her. The bumbling assistant. Just knocking her skull upon the glass.

He remembers seeing over exaggerated features widen in terror at him, but that was with most of her dark curls hiding her face and him after encountering that damned Green creature...

What did they call it?

Hulk.

He remembers disdainfully.

Loki walked over towards the glass, peering at her. She didn't seem to notice anything.

He can observe her fully now. Her features were as exaggerated in his memories as they were now. Her large eyes and lips were scrunched in a not-so pleasant face, furrowed in her thoughts.

It looked as if she was... chanting. No, talking to herself. She did this successively for 5 minutes, repeated to mumble to herself, and then started to hit her skull in a self-demeaning manner again.

What she said, he couldn't hear, and although he could've read her lips easily, he'd rather not waste any effort on something so useless.

Intrigued, he placed his right hand on the glass over her own left, merely to test if she would sense his presence.

Carefully, the god started with each digit, his eyes never straying from her face. Loki didn't know why he was so tense. It wasn't as if she was going to see him, but he held his breath despite his reasoning when he placed the entirety of his palm on hers.

After he saw no reaction, Loki relaxed, close enough to cause the glass to fog and lightly tapped the pads of his fingers upon hers. Loki is reminded of how he used to do that to the indentations-created from years of use-located on the grips of his daggers. His lips twitched up in amusement.

When he looked back, however, he nearly withdrew himself from the window from pure alarm.

She was staring directly at him through the retreating fog, eyes widened and lips parted in a breathless whisper,

"Loki."

* * *

**Author's Note: **It was a longer update time because I do realize my chapters seem rather short, so I forced myself to add another 1000 words in and I have a whole arsenal of homework and classes I must make up.

Please read and review! I will respond to each and every one. Yes, there's a lot of language, and I personally don't use language like this at all personally, but I really wanted to paint vivid characters and those words are a part of my characters.

*In case you haven't heard, The Miami Zombie was a recent news story about a naked homeless man who chewed off the face of another homeless man, while high on drugs.

**Next Chapter Expectation Date:** I took around.. 5 days? for this one, so the next one will be around 10. Again, _lots _of schoolwork.


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